wild*life

I recently learned a special little tidbit about one of my dearest friends who I’ve known since pre-school.  She has pictures on her iPhone of what I’ll call “heart sightings.”  Jenny explained to me that one day she asked the universe for a sign and now she sees hearts everywhere she goes… in rocks, in the clouds, under a car on the pavement.  It’s a little bit like that buttered Jesus toast or a Virgin Mary water stain, but totally sweeter.  In any case, Jakey seems to get similar signs from the universe.

At first I would say the universe shows him hammers.  Though I’m afraid to think what significance that might have.  Then I thought that his karmic object was snakes.  He sees snakes when we squirt lotion into his hands at night… and during an unfortunate conversation about our neighbor’s dog… I won’t elaborate further.  But, I’ve decided the universe is not showing Jacob hammers and snakes; his serendipitous symbol is Santa.  It has to be.  And I think Santa represents something wonderful and magical.  I always think of a friend’s house where year-round they have a sign hung in their entryway, “I believe in Santa Claus.”

It’s hard to say when the kismet of the universe will appear.  On our way home from Sanibel, we watched the pilot of a small Florida Keys hopper as he loaded his plane with tourists and their baggage.  The pilot had a head of white hair and a perfect white Santa beard.  “Look Jakey, is that Santa?” Head shaking and furrowed brow, “Nope.”  Huh… maybe he’s too skinny?

Then we were enjoying breakfast at one of my favorite places in Santa Cruz a week or two ago (Kelly’s Bakery on the Westside, kellysfrenchbakery.com).  Two tables down was a very big guy with a head of dark blond dreadlocks and a short beard.  “Mama, Santa!”  OK, I guess modern-day Santa could have tatts… on his neck.

Yesterday I picked him up at school and always have to be sure to gather all his clothing… perhaps more on his wardrobe changes another day.  We find his sweatshirt, “Santa sweatshirt.  Me get it.  Santa sweatshirt.”  His Santa sweatshirt?  I’m confused.  Then I realize it’s his “Santa CRUZ” sweatshirt.

And finally, when we were in the pool in Florida for the umpteenth time, there was a very rotund, tan man swimming close by.  He had a distinguished gray beard.  You might say his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.  Of course as he rose from the water to ascend the pool steps, “Santa!”

“Santa’s naked, Mama.  Naked!”

Hmmm… now that I examine the facts, his signs from the universe may be au naturel.

I’d like to warn the world that on or near 7pm, each and every night, it’s “Naked Jacob Time.”  Technically, it’s actually bath time, but this involves taking off all his clothes… which if you weren’t aware, is apparently one of the most exciting things that can ever happen to a two-year-old boy.  I warn you because if you are walking or driving by, or are happening to visit at that time, you will get a show.  Arms up in the air, feet planted firmly apart, big trouble-making grin on his face, a little jig, and exclamations of “Naked Jacob Tiiiiiiime!” No worries… there won’t be any photos accompanying this post.  Rule #1 of raising internet savvy kids: No naked pictures on the internet.

So, this obsession with nudity has led to Jake’s aptitude for pointing out any and all people wearing varying degrees of clothing.  A male jogger without his shirt on?  Pointing and an inconveniently loud, “Naaaked!”

An embarrassed Nonna got a taste of the naked sightings, daily, when strolling the beach with Jakey in Florida.  You can only imagine how many people in bathing suits were declared “Naked!”… young and old, male and female alike.

Ever since we brought Natesy home from the hospital, I’ve acquired yet another skill set, that of bodyguard.  People always ask, “How is Jake doing with the new baby?”

Yes, there have been the requisite swats and head bonks, but mostly, it’s like Nate is a high-powered magnet and Jake is a bag of nails.  Perhaps figuratively… more like literally.

From the moment Jacob gets up in the morning he wants to “See him, see him!”  (It doesn’t count as seeing him unless his nose is three inches from Nate’s nose.)  And he’s always asking, “Baby Nake drinking milk babas?  Again?”  Yes, again.  Babies always seem to be eating…

He likes to talk loudly and roar like a lion and then turn to me innocently, “Baby Nake wake-up?  Eyes open. Baby Nake wake-up!”  He is constantly imploring me to hold him, rock him, check him.  Though he is also quite the volunteer, “I check him.  I check him, Mama.”

I’d venture a guess that Nate gets about 5 times more kisses from his brother than the rest of us… we just have to constantly watch him because Jake will lay on top of the baby in order to smooch “My Baby Nake’s” face.  JJ thinks it’s super funny when little Natesy’s hands spastically hit his big brother face, “In da FACE!  Oh, in da ear.  Baby Nake, in da nose!”  I’m sure this will change over time…

One of my most favorites is when Jacob comes up to Nate as he’s cooing and blowing bubbles.  He takes his little finger and gently tickles his belly and says, “Hey You.  Baby Nake smiling.”

Tonight I tried to recreate this amazing tapa I had a few weeks ago with the Guapas in Palo Alto.  It consisted of prosciutto with melon balls sprinkled with chili salt… delithioso.  This dish may represent the turning point in my lifelong protest against melons and their close cousins: squash.

This evening Jakey asked me to remove the “chicken” from his serving (translation: prosciutto), but he couldn’t get enough of the agualemons (translation: watermelon).  James was thrown off by the spanglish dyslexic fruit whereas I was caught off guard by “Triangle, Mama.  Agualemon triangle.”

During the first week of May we took our first family trip.  We haven’t gone anywhere for a week since James and I visited Machu Picchu in March of 2008.  Cabins without indoor plumbing don’t count…

This long-awaited expedition was to one of my most favorite places in the world, Sanibel Island.  This little island in the gulf has been my family’s beach destination since I was Jake’s age.  My grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins have been descending onto this old Floridian condo complex since the days it was most likely new… in the late 60’s or early 70’s.

So, it’s been 6 years since the last time we visited… much too long.  This time we talked Nonna and Papa into joining us and set-off on a week of key lime pie eating, shelling, canoe paddling, bike riding, parrot visiting, butterfly catching, and girlie drink drinking.

Overall, Jacob had some of his highest highs and his lowest lows.  He was like a little overheated, malfunctioning robot.  I think his brain was going a thousand miles an hour, he couldn’t nap, and when he did, his mind was still racing as it processed hundreds of new experiences and vocabulary words.  He was so exhausted that he fell asleep in my lap, mid-sentence, in his diaper and a towel, with a piece of energy bar still in his little hand.  By the end of the week he was finally getting used to the routine… and then it was time to go!

The swimming pool and beach were right up Jake’s alley, just as I’d imagined.  He giggled and screamed with glee as each wave hit him.  And the only thing that lured him out of the swimming pool and hours of jumping off the side “again, again” were bribes of Handy Manny.  He is a Pisces water baby who didn’t bat an eyelash, even when coughing and gagging on agua.  We are optimistic that the memories of the “I want out” and “I want Nonna” airplane meltdowns and the “I want ice cream cone” restaurant hysterics will fade from our memories…

Some highlights:

• Before our trip, Jacob talked nonstop about the airplane and how he was going to “drive it.”  At first he was freaked out by the pilot’s voice over the loudspeaker, but now he’s all about playing airplanes and does a nice rendition of “the pilot talking.”
• Nate’s airplane batting average is 4 for 4.  He was the perfect baby.
• Jake spent two weeks gabbing about how he was going to fish with a “fishing pole” when we got there.  Fortunately, he was perfectly happy with the driftwood and seaweed fishing pole I improvised and the pretend “big fish and baby fish” that we caught on the beach.  He had to blow on every pretend fish before we threw it back in the ocean.
• He’s now spent the last two weeks talking about how “alligators get me, hide.  Hide.”
• He scarfed down the clam chowder at DOC Ford’s and concurred with my Aunt Bonnie who had previously declared it the best clam chowder she’s ever eaten.  I can’t say I’d agree– but the Yucatan shrimp are deelish.
• James and I thoroughly enjoyed our ninth anniversary out at Sweet Melissa’s Cafe where we had some creative and beautiful food.  We didn’t have to chase spilled cups of crayons, point out cows or birdies, or use our bodies as sticky booth toddler barricades.
• We discovered breakfast at the Over Easy Cafe and had the most terrific day.  After a giant stack of pancakes, we rented a surrey bicycle.  It was a feat of multitasking as we peddled, I fed Nate, and we pointed out items of interest as Jake lounged in the front and waved at other bicyclists, after they’d passed us.
• It poured rain on our second to last night and brought out hundreds of froggies.  JJ heard one that he was convinced was “baa baa black sheep.”
• It was Nate’s first time swimming.  It was much easier getting him out of the pool…
• Jake chased a lot of lizards but never did “touch it,” despite a thousand attempts.
• Papa’s “mustache face” kisses made quite an impression.
• Everyone’s still longing for more Blue Bell ice cream.
• Nathaniel and I went on a magical sunset beach walk on our last night.  We saw a little hermit crab in a tulip shell.  The evening was perfect.

Our trip home might deserve its very own post…

At our house, we talk a lot about Brakiki and Balilies…

Nope, these aren’t tropical vacation destinations in Southeast Asia.  Translation: broccoli and blueberries.  Technically balilies are also strawberries, cranberries, olallieberries… well, all berries really.

These vocabulary concoctions conjure images of Jake lounging on a white sand beach while I fan him with palm fronds and feed him brakiki and balilies.  I’ll have to write more about our recent little island trip…

So I was talking to my dear friend Sarah a few weeks ago and realized that many of my posts probably could use pictures… I recognize that perhaps, at times, my delicate prose just doesn’t describe the less than delicate activities occurring primarily on my living room floor.  Therefore, I’ve captured a couple of Jake’s latest “inventions.”  First up, his “butterfly net” for “catching butterflies”:

Then I saw this on my kitchen floor.  “Catching mouses, Mama.  Catching mouses.”  Yes, that is his toy cheese:

I love you well, my little brother,
And you are fond of me;
Let us be kind to one another,
As brothers ought to be.

You shall learn to play with me,
And learn to use my toys;
And then I think that we shall be
Two happy little boys.

Yesterday was May 1st– Nate’s two month birthday.  He’s not even remotely little anymore, what happened?  It also happened to be the day that the government announced they have finally killed Osama Bin Laden.

And on the exact same night that the United States finally cornered its nemesis, Nate slept through the entire night…  coincidence?  Perhaps.  He slept from 10-something to 7-something. Yes, I have completely lost track of time and you should be impressed that these approximations actually include numbers.

Now that Osama’s a goner, Baby Nate says he can finally sleep easy.

Last night after dinner we’re playing on the living room floor and Jake starts asking about jellybeans.

“Mama, jellybeans go?”
“Jellybeans?  What jellybeans?”  (I’m pretty sure I covertly emptied all jellybean filled plastic eggs into the trash during nap time… before they could be burned into his memory.)
“No, Mama, I want jellybeans.”
“Oh, the jellybean stickers?”
“No.  Ca-Carrot.  Carrot jellybeans, Mama.”

Uh, oh.  Now you’re thinking, carrot jellybeans?  Despite their marked creativity, that doesn’t sound like a JellyBelly flavor.

I know exactly what he’s talking about.  His Easter basket at Grandma’s had Reese’s Pieces, aka Carrot Jellybeans.  Thanks Easter Bunny.